Dreams
by Bethhawke
Summary: It's 2 weeks after Gabrielle's death and a grieving Stringfellow Hawke is having disturbing dreams.
1. Chapter 1

Discalimer - Airwolf does not belong to me. I have just borrowed the characters.

A/N I originally posted this as a M rating, but as an afterthought changed it slightly so it could be a T rating.

* * *

_She was in his room, watching him. He could sense her, smell her perfume. He breathed in deeply, revelling in the scent of her, the scent that had lingered in his bedroom for a few days after she had died, before gradually fading away. Died? She was dead, she couldn't be here. _

Stringfellow Hawke opened his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. His heart was beating so loud that all he could hear was the sound of his blood pumping in his veins. He looked around, confused, disorientated. She was here, he was so sure she was here. He sensed her like he had sensed her every night for the last week.

He put his head in his hands and wept.

When he woke again it was morning, late morning by the look of the sun shining in through the windows. He hadn't bothered to draw the curtains the night before, little details like that just weren't important any more. Exhausted, he crawled out of bed and into the bathroom and prepared to face the day.

* * *

As night fell he started to feel nervous and poured himself a large glass of whiskey to calm his nerves. He'd had the same dream for a week now and even in the light of day the uneasy feeling of her watching him wouldn't go away. If he believed in ghosts he might think he was being haunted, but he didn't believe in ghosts. No, he _definitely_ didn't believe in ghosts.

Maybe he was going mad; he did believe that was a possibility.

Gradually, the external heat from the fire and the internal heat from the whisky caused him to fall asleep.

_She was standing beside him, her hand stretched out towards him. He took it and she led him upstairs. _

He woke up screaming her name, drenched in sweat, the bed covers tangled around him.

"Gabrielle!" But it was useless, he knew she was gone, he had no sense of her.

The sound of an approaching helicopter reached his ears and he grabbed the jeans he had worn the day before, worn for the last week he realised as he noticed how grubby they looked. He put them on anyway, it was too much of an effort to find clean ones.

He reached the front door just before Archangel, and opened it for the man in white.

Archangel limped inside, relying heavily on his cane, and drew in a breath when he saw the state of Hawke. He was unshaven, dressed in dirty jeans and even from where he stood he could tell he was in need of a shower. He looked like a broken man which, Archangel realised with a start, was exactly what he was.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked the younger man, his voice concerned.

Hawke shook his head, "Dreams," he stated cryptically.

Archangel sat down and nodded sympathetically, "Nightmares about her dying? I can sympathise, my nights have been disturbed recently too."

"No. Not nightmares. Dreams. She's here. I sense her, I smell her perfume." Hawke was tired and hungover and realised he was talking too much. He couldn't even begin to explain how real the dreams were, didn't want to.

Archangel realised it was useless trying to talk to Hawke. After his brief communication he had shut down and any attempts to draw him into conversation had failed. He left, with a promise that he would return when the other man was feeling a bit better.

The day dragged on. Hawke sat with Tet in front of the fire, just staring into space, taking the occasional sip of whisky. As the shadows in the cabin started to deepen the uneasy feeling washed over him again.

"Gabrielle," he whispered, before falling into a restless sleep.

_She was standing in front of him again, just like the night before. He tried to focus, but there was something wrong with his eyes. _

"_Stringfellow," she whispered, sitting down beside him._

"_Gabrielle?"_

"_Hush" she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him lightly. He hesitated before returning the kiss. Something was wrong but he couldn't remember what._

"_Don't fight it, Stringfellow," she breathed against his mouth._

_He stopped fighting and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling he had. _

_Dawn was breaking when she got up and kissed him lightly on the forehead._

"_Goodbye, Stringfellow," she breathed huskily before leaving._

He woke with a start and opened his eyes to see Dominic Santini standing above him.

"You OK String?" he asked. Hawke looked at him blankly. "String?"

"Where is she?"

"Who?" Dominic looked around but the cabin was empty apart from the two of them.

"Gabrielle. She was here."

"Oh, String," Dominic's voice shook with emotion, "she wasn't here. She's dead. Remember? Moffett killed her."

"She was here," Hawke was adamant, then he closed his eyes and the grief threatened to overwhelm him as he remembered, "She said goodbye. She isn't coming back."


	2. Chapter 2

9 months later

Archangel hung up the receiver and put his head in his hands. Even after nearly a year he was surprised to feel the covered lens of his glasses and memories of the attack on Red Star Control came flooding back. He tried to push them aside but the phone call he had just received made that impossible. He knew who was calling before he heard her voice, all calls to him were screened, but it was a shock even so. She sounded so like Gabrielle; he had forgotten that. The sisters could be mistaken for twins if you didn't look too closely and they sounded so alike it was impossible to tell them apart on the phone. Rachel was the younger sister and Archangel had recruited her as soon as she was old enough. She had left the Firm the day she heard about her sister's death.

He lifted his head when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called.

Marella entered, looking exquisite in a calf length white dress, and perched on the edge of his desk.

"How is she?" she asked him. It had been Marella who had put the call through to Archangel.

"A mother," he answered, "twins, a boy and a girl."

"I didn't even know she was expecting," Marella exclaimed, "who's the father? I didn't realise she was in a relationship."

"Neither did I. I can't help wondering..." he didn't continue and Marella didn't press the point.

"What has she called them?" she asked, thinking it was a safe question.

Archangel took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. "St. John and Gabrielle."


End file.
